


What God and Angels Know of Us

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Angel Barry, First Kiss, Hunter Leonard, M/M, Mentions of Mick Rory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: “You know,” Len said finally, voice tearing messily through the charged silence like a blunted knife. “When people stare like this, it usually means something.” 
 Barry’s head tilted starkly to the right. “What does it usually mean?”An homage to Destiel, written for Legends of Superflarroween.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I _was_ working on a larger piece for Legends of Superflarroween, but it got way bigger than I was expecting or even ready to handle, so I figured I'd do up something short and sweet to post now and maybe I'll keep picking away at the other piece if I can find the time (though no promises)
> 
> As always, let me know what you think with your lovely kudos and comments! I really appreciate it! Enjoy, and Happy ~~belated~~ Halloween!
> 
> (PS: I tried to include as many of my favourite Destiel moments as I could into this fic. Can you spot them all?)

_"Reputation is what men and women think of us;_  
_character is what God and angels know of us"_

_Thomas Paine_

 

* * *

 

“Why are you asking me to call him?”

Len glanced back at his sister as he paced the floor, raising an eyebrow to hammer home the question.

Lisa sighed, turning her attention from the laptop open in front of her to her nails, cut short but painted a shimmering gold, with a look of complete and total indifference.

“Because,” Lisa said. “We could use the help. And while I’ve certainly been trying about as hard as a girl can try, I haven’t been able to reach him.”

Len scoffed. “What,” he rebuked. “And you think I have him on speed dial?”

Still, Lisa stared at him expectantly, and Len sighed. “Fine,” he agreed.

Striding across the motel room floor, Len sat delicately atop one lumpy bed, his hands smoothing the hideous floral bedspread where it creased under his weight.

“Dear Bartholomew, who art not in Heaven,” Len began, sarcasm dripping from every word. “We have something of a situation. Feel free to stop by any time.”

From her seat at the table, Lisa sniggered softly, and Len stared her down in avid condescension. “Is that what you were looking for?” he asked.

“Hey,” Lisa chuckled. “I thought it would work.”

“It did.”

The unexpected voice caused both Snart sibling to jump, and the hair stood up straight on Len’s arms. He still wasn’t used to being snuck up on. It had been a long time since anyone could, not after all the lessons in hunting he’d been given by his father, or the painfully effective ways he’d had of making those lessons stick.

“Mother of--” Len hissed. He sucked in a deep, if shaky, breath. “Knock, Barry.”

“Right, sorry.”

Before either Len or Lisa could speak again, the angel was gone. Seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

Len sighed.  

Rising to his feet, Len strode forward until his long, thin fingers closed around the knob and twisted it open. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm above his head, and, while he certainly tried, he couldn’t quite hide the vague traces of fondness that crept into his otherwise impassive expression as he took in the scene before him.

“Yes?” Len drawled, raising a brow.

There stood, Bartholomew, Angel of the Lord, sporting the most adorably dorky, timid smile Len had ever seen, not that he’d ever admit as much.

“You told me to knock,” Barry replied.

Once more, all Len couldn’t do was sigh. Without a word, he stepped back, pulling the door open wider and ushering Barry inside. As the angel crossed the threshold, Len closed the door and followed him into the room.

“Hello, Lisa,” Barry greeted, bright and enthusiastic.

Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “So what?” she said. “I spend all day screaming into the void and you stay MIA, but one word from my brother and suddenly it’s Sergeant Angel, reporting for duty?”

Barry frowned at her, his expression hurt and confused like a kicked puppy dog. Against his better judgement, Len smirked.

Lisa scoffed. “I’m starting to get the impression that you don’t like me very much,” she added, continuing the playful tease.

“W-what?” Barry sputtered, his voice tight and pitchy, defensive and surprised. “No, of course not. I like you a lot, Lisa.”  

“Right,” Lisa chuckled. “You just like my brother better.”

Barry smiled a tiny, sheepish smile. “Well,” he said, shoulders hunching in on himself, looking an awful lot like an apology. “Len and I kinda share a more, I don’t know,” he paused for a moment, considering his words. “Profound bond?” he offered at last.

Len’s eyes widened like saucers at Barry’s statement. Lisa caught sight of his expression and waggled her eyebrows at him teasingly.

“Is that so, Lenny?” she goaded.

Len shrugged, noncommittal, quickly regaining control over his body and its reactions.

“Ugh, whatever,” Lisa huffed. She shut the lid of her laptop then and stood, grabbing it with one hand and removing it from the table. With the other hand, she gathered the assorted papers strewn messily across the makeshift work surface and stuffed them into her bag perched on an adjacent chair.   

“I’m going to the library,” Lisa continued, adding the laptop to the bag as well and sliding it over her shoulder. “And then I’ll call Mick, see if he’s found anything on his end.”

As she made her way to the door, she glanced back at her brother and smiled sickly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine bringing Barry up to speed.”  

Len glowered, but Barry remained unphased, waving pleasantly at Lisa as she stepped out into the parking lot.

“Goodbye, Lisa,” Barry called.

Lisa chuckled. “Toodles, Care Bear,” she replied.

As the door swung closed with a resounding _clack_ , Barry turned to Len with near unbridled excitement and beamed. “So?” he prompted when Len remained silent. “You said there was a situation.”

Sighing, Len turned and moved toward the window. He spread the blinds with his fingers and watched as his sister backed the Impala out of its parking space. Once she’d pulled safely onto the main road, Len let the blinds fall together and turned back to face the angel.

He expected to find Barry safely across the room as he’d left him, but instead, Barry stood mere inches away, their noses almost brushing. Len hastily aborted the step forward he’d begun to take. Barry’s face was calm and open, and it set the hairs on the back of Len’s neck on end.

“Personal space, Barry,” Len whispered, his throat suddenly dry, the sound coming out thick and cracky. “We talked about this.”

A searing blush coloured Barry’s cheeks as he took a lengthy step backward. “Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to his shoes and he fiddled anxiously with the hem of his shirt, one more in a long line of baggy, oversized sweaters. The soft scarlet knit swallowed Barry whole and made look so, so young. Len forgot, more often than not, that unfathomable angelic power, millennia old, hid just below the guise of Holy Kindergarten Teacher.

Barry glanced up at Len uncertainly through his lashes, and Len’s heart stuttered in his chest. While the look was hesitant, it was also filled with heat and intensity, and some other nameless, shapeless thing Len couldn’t bring himself to describe.

This wasn’t the first time Barry had looked at him like that, and every time he did, Len swore he could feel the other man’s handprint burn, the mark seared into the flesh of Len’s shoulder where Barry had gripped him tight and raised him from Hell.

The first time Len had laid eyes on his bare skin, fresh out of Hell, slightly less fresh out of the grave, a unbearable pressure had filled him, welling up in his eyes, pressing against this throat, his chest. Because his skin really had been bare. Not a single scar was left. Not the odd reminder of a hunt gone bad, or the more extensive evidence of a childhood gone worse. The only mark was the raised stamp of Barry’s hand, and Len knew in his gut, without question, that with that mark, his life had been irrevocably changed.

He’d expected it to be for the worse, but now, Len wasn’t so sure.

The room was filled with an impossible silence as both men continued to stare deeply into one another’s eyes. Len’s skin turned flush and clammy under Barry’s inscrutable gaze, prickling like the air was rife with ozone. Or maybe it was Barry’s Grace, unfathomably powerful, seeping from every pore as it refused to contain itself into such a small space. Barry had said once that his true form was the size of the Chrysler Building. In moments like these, Len could almost picture it.

“You know,” Len said finally, voice tearing messily through the charged silence like a blunted knife. “When people stare like this, it usually means something.”

Barry’s head tilted starkly to the right. “What does it usually mean?” he asked, the intonation curious, innocent.

Len swallowed. “Nothing you should say to an angel,” he replied.

There was the faintest hint of a wrinkle in Barry’s brow as he took a step forward, crowding closer into Len’s space. His eyes were captivatingly hazel-green, and stormy and clear all at once, an impossible enigma, the quintessence of Bartholomew and everything he offered, both promise and threat on the fine line of a highwire.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Barry asked, the question barely a whisper. The ghost of his breath passed against Len’s lips, and Len nearly trembled in response. Instead, he drew in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself.

“I’m just tired,” Len replied.

Barry’s frown deepened. “You aren’t sleeping?”

Len scoffed. “Pretty sure we can both agree I’ve got enough nightmare fodder to warrant a few sleepless nights.”

“I could watch over you,” Barry offered. The sincerity of his words took Len by surprise, his whole body tensing. If Barry noticed, his only response was to move in even closer. “I could make your dreams peaceful.”

“Kinda sounds like cheating, don’t you think?” Len snarked.

Barry’s answering smile was sad. “If anyone deserves to cheat, Leonard, it’s you.”

The quiet reassurance was enough to break Len from his trance. In less than a heartbeat, he was gone from Barry’s space, moving to the nightstand to open one of the books perched atop it and skim blindly over its contents.

Barry’s brow furrowed, not that Len could see. He had his back to the angel, shutting him out the best way he knew how.

“What did I say?” Barry asked, perplexed.

Len said nothing.

“Len, talk to me,” Barry tried again.

“I should call Lisa,” Len said idly, still choosing to ignore the other man. “See if she’s found anything.”

He made a move for his cell phone, but just as his fingers dipped beneath the seam of his pocket, Barry’s hand on his wrist stopped him short.

“Len,” he said again. It wasn’t forceful, but rather soft and concerned. Len isn’t sure he’d have looked up otherwise. Those hazel-green eyes were so bright.

“Do you think you still deserve to be in Hell? Is that what this is about?”

Len pulled his hand from Barry’s grip and stalked away. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, Barry,” he snapped. “The things I was made to do. The things I did willingly. Happily. Even before Hell.”

“Yes I do.”

Barry’s voice was firm and unwavering, and it made Len stop in his tracks. Her turned back to gauge Barry’s expression, but saw nothing other than steely resolve in his earnest, unwavering gaze.

“I remade you, Leonard. I’ve seen every piece of your soul, touched it with my hands. And they may not have come away clean, but they didn’t have to. Because there is good in you. And you are worthy of being saved.”

Len scoffed. Derisive. Harsh. Hollow. “Yeah, ‘casue God’s got all these high hopes for me,” he deadpanned.

A sudden hand closed over Len’s shoulder, and immediately, he flinched. As soon as he did the hand moved away, but Barry still hovered close. Len could feel the heat of his body radiating against his back.

“Not just God,” Barry said softly. His hand came down again, this time slower and with warning, giving Len plenty of time to pull away.

But he didn’t. Instead, he angled into Barry’s touch and turned in place until both men were facing one another. Barry stared and Len stared back. He felt the tension build again, hot and insistent, the same way it had been building for four long months, since Barry had pulled him out of Hell. The same way it had started to build any time Len and Barry were in a room together, or Len was alone, thinking of him.

“What does it mean when people stare like this?” Barry asked again. The space between their bodies was gone. Len could feel the press of him everywhere, the heat of his body, steady beat of his heart.

“Either you know or you don’t,” Len replied.

The silence was thick enough to choke.

And then Barry’s hands were in Len’s hair, and his mouth was pressed against Len’s mouth, and nothing else felt like this. Nothing had ever felt like this in all of Len’s life, which had been filled with so many feelings he’d almost gone numb to them all. But this feeling was different. It wasn’t the sharp sting of pain or the pungent acidity of fear. It wasn’t the slimy fire of shame or even the icy numbness of resignation.

Kissing Barry felt good. Tongues delved, hot and reverent, into one another’s mouths, lips parting without question, without hesitation. There was a clumsiness to Barry’s motions, awkward, inexperienced, but never uncertain. It spoke in equal measure to his inexperience and his conviction, and Len didn’t know what he’d done in his life to deserve this moment, this series of fleeting moments, but he did know he never wanted them to end.

But they had to. Len’s lungs screamed for air and his hands shook like leaves, even gripped tight in the woven knit of Barry’s overlarge sweater.

“Was that okay?” Barry asked, panting as they pulled apart, his forehead pressed hard against Len’s own, hands sliding from Len’s hair to cup gently around his face instead.

“I thought angels weren’t supposed to care,” Len rasped, still wrapped up in the heat of this kiss. As his brain came slowly back online, worry settled in the pit of his stomach, tensing the muscles in his arms, his jaw, his toes.

But Barry’s nose brushed against his own, and some of the worry ebbed.

“I wasn’t supposed to get this close to the humans in my charge,” Barry admitted, barely a whisper spoken into the sliver of space between their mouths. “But from the moment I first touched you, when all that you were was broken and ragged and torn apart, I knew that Heaven had lost me.”

Len shivered and Barry brushed their lips together once more.

“I’m yours,” he added. “Whatever comes next, I promise you, I am yours.”  

It was a promise Len knew he couldn’t make. It was one he accepted anyway.     

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/).


End file.
